MARSHALL  FIELD 


f!^ 


JOHN  ARCHIBALD  MORISON 


LAWRENCE  J.  GUTTER 

Collecrion  of  Chicogoono 

THE   UNIVERSITY   OF   ILLINOIS 
AT  CHICAGO 

The  University  Library 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arcliive 

in  2010  witli  funding  from 

CARLI:  Consortium  of  Academic  and  Researcli  Libraries  in  Illinois 


http://www.archive.org/details/marshallfieldOOmori 


TO 

MRS.  MARSHALL  FIELD 


"Know  ye  not  that  there  is  a  prince  and 
a  great  man  fallen 


First  Presbyterian  Church,  Chicago,  lUinois 
January  21,  1906 


c5 


^  An  Appreciation 

o  When  Edmund  Burke  died,  Canning  declared, 

2      "there  is  but  one  event,  but  it  is  the  event  of  the 

^l.     world,  'Burke  is  dead." 

^  These  terse  words  are  singularly  appropriate  to 

2      the  sad  circumstances  of  the  past  week  from  whatever 
standpoint  we  view  them — 

Whether  as  members  of  this  Church,  which  for 
long  years  was  the  spiritual  home  of  Marshall  Field, 
or  as  citizens  of  this  mighty  city  of  Chicago,  whose 

^ ,  energy  and  influence  is  felt  throughout  the  world, 
.  or  as  members  of  that  world-wide  confederation  of 
humanity  dwelling  in  many  different  lands,  yet  bound 
together  by  bonds  Divinely  forged  and  sealed — with 
all  to-day  there  is  one  thought  that  is  uppermost  in 
mind  and  heart,  Marshall  Field  is  dead. 

^'-^  It  is  a  time  to  mourn: 

r^  Sorrow  has  melted  the  walls  that  divide  class 

from  class  in  city  and  nation,  and  everywhere  is 
heard  the  voice  of  the  mourner,  whispering  with 
broken  accents  of  grief,  saying,  "  We  know  that  there 
is  a  prince  and  a  great  man  fallen  this  day."  The 
pulpit  of  this  church,  in  which  for  so  many  years 


Marshall  Field  worshipped,  and  whose  interests  as  a 
trustee  he  so  long  promoted,  may  not  be  silent  at 
this  time  with  regard  to  his  princely  life. 

Yet,  how  difficult  it  is  to  speak!  Sorrow  fills 
the  heart  and  seems  to  have  paralyzed  the  power  of 
thought  and  drowned  the  fountains  of  utterance  with 
grief  s  solemn  tides. 


We  gather  as  it  were  in  the  darkness  beside  the 
margin  of  that  vast  mysterious  sea  over  which  his 
spirit  has  gone.  We  gaze  across  its  dark  waters 
whose  secrets  awe  our  hearts  with  solemn  mystery. 
We  cannot  discern  the  other  shore  whither  his  pure 
spirit  has  passed,  and  from  him  no  word  comes  back 
to  tell  us 

"Whether  at  all  they  be, 
Whether  as  bond  or  free, 
Or  whether  they,  too,  as  we, 
Or  by  what  way  they  have  sped. 

With  us  is  the  darkness  and  a  sense  of  loss — 
The  sagacious  man, 
The  captain  of  industry, 
The  generous  philanthropist. 
The  loyal  and  distinguished  friend, 
has  gone,  to  return  no  more. 


It  is  dark,  indeed;  yet  this  darkness  here  and 
there  is  driven  back  by  those  hghts,  never  to  be 
extinguished,  which  his  own  hands  had  kept  trimmed 
and  burning.  Brightest  among  those  shining  lamps 
burns  the  hght  of  his  hdehty  to  duty. 

The  long  roll  of  earth  s  heroes,  whose  loyalty  to 
duty  has  lifted  up  their  statues  in  the  temple  of  fame, 
contains  no  more  conspicuous  impressive  name  than 
that  of  Marshall  Field.  With  him  the  sense  of  duty 
was  imperial. 

The  greatest  German  thinker  of  the  last  century, 
Immanuel  Kant,  used  frequently  to  say  that  there 
were  two  things  which  filled  him  with  ever  increasing 
wonder  and  awe  the  more  he  contemplated  them — 
the  starry  heavens  above  and  moral  law  within.  He 
examined  that  moral  law,  that  voice  which  seems  to 
speak  with  authority  the  meaning  of  the  words  ought 
and  ought  not,  and  as  he  examined  it  he  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  it  spoke  with  the  voice  of  God,  and 
he  said  that  he  was  prepared,  dispensing  with  all  other 
arguments,  to  rest  the  proof  of  God,  His  existence. 
His  truth.  His  power  upon  that  one  authoritative  fact 
in  every  man's  consciousness  that  we  call  duty. 

Marshall  Field  saw  his  duty  and  did  it,  quickly 
and  surely,  unostentatiously  and  successfully. 


The  courage,  perseverance,  and  skill  with  which 
he  attacked  and  conquered  the  herculean  tasks  of  his 
life  sprang  Irom  nothing  else  than  the  principle  and 
conviction  of  duty. 

The  sense  ot  duty  rose  with  him  every  morning, 
companioned  with  him  throughout  his  busiest  day 
and  guarded  his  slumbers  at  night. 

It  was  co-extensive  with  the  action  of  his  intel- 
ligence. 

Like  a  shadow  it  followed  him  wherever  he 
went,  nor  did  it  leave  him  at  death  but  passed  with 
him  unto  the  land  beyond  where  duty  receives  its 
benediction  and  its  reward.  In  this  lofty  conception 
of  duty  we  behold  the  key  to  the  character  and 
career  of  our  late  foremost  citizen. 

Well  may  we  all,  and  more  especially  the  young, 
bring  our  unread  volumes  of  destiny  and  learn  what 
our  duty  is  by  the  light  that  streams  upon  their 
pages  from  his  shining  example. 

As  has  been  so  well  said  of  him  by  Mr. 
McCutcheon:  "A  man  who  by  legitimate  means 
builds  up  a  great  fortune,  in  the  acquirement  of  which 
he  has  never  lost  the  confidence  and  trust  of  his 
fellow  men;  whose  business  triumph  has  not  been 
by  means  of  financial  trickery  or  the  evasion  of  his 


country's  laws:  about  whose  fortune  (unlike  many 
other  great  American  fortunes)  there  has  never  been 
a  suspicion  of  taint. 

A  man  whose  name  is  synonymous  with  business 
honor  and  integrity;  whose  faith  in  Chicago  ever 
has  been  steadfast  and  true,  whose  life  will  be  a 
beacon  hght  to  guide  future  generations  to  honorable 
success.' 

We  may  lay  his  mortal  remains  to  rest  in  mother 
earth,  and  over  them  we  may  plant  the  cypress  and 
weeping  willow  watered  by  a  nation  s  tears,  but 
above  these  symbols  of  sorrow  shall  there  burn  with 
undimmed  lustre  and  imperishable  glory  that  star  of 
duty  by  which  he  was  guided,  and  the  following  of 
which  will  bring  honor  and  success  to  the  faithful 
and  courageous  of  our  land  and  city. 

As  we  thus  read  hfes  possibilities  by  the  light 
that  keeps  vigil  over  his  tomb,  our  grief  is  in  a 
measure  assuaged,  and  we  realize  as  never  before 
how  poor  this  world  would  be  without  the  mausoleums 
of  her  mighty  dead. 

The  distinguished  men  who  with  toil  of  head  and 
heart  and  hands  have  pressed  forward  and  upward 
through  the  long  gorge  of  time  and  have  won  the 
far  light  beyond. 


Who  have  outstripped  us  in  the  race  and  have 
found  the  lofty  crags  of  duty  close  upon  the  table 
lands  of  God. 

It  may  be  said  of  him  as  it  has  been  of  Lincoln, 
"The  more  the  man  as  he  was  is  known,  the  more 
completely  an  insight  is  obtained  into  his  true  char- 
acter, the  more  his  private  and  public  life  is  studied, 
the  more  carefully  his  acts  are  weighed,  the  higher 
will  he  rise  in  the  estimation  of  all  whose  esteem 
is  desirable. 

Coming  years  will  detract  naught  from  him.  He 
has  passed  into  history. 

There's  no  lover  of  honesty  and  integrity,  no 
admirer  of  firmness  and  resolution,  no  sympathizer 
with  conscientious  conviction,  no  friend  of  man  need 
fear  to  leave  — 

Marshall  Field. 

We  long  shall  miss  thee  as  we  go  our  ways. 

The  home  will  miss  thee  from  its  broken  band. 
Full  many  a  tear  will  tell  thy  sober  praise 

And  all  good  works  will  miss  thy  helping  hand. 

And  yet — Good-bye — Good-bye — thou  faithful  soul 
From  toil  and  trouble  thou  hast  earned  release. 

Thy  weary  feet  are  resting  at  the  goal 
The  pain  of  living  ended  in  God  s  peace. 


v. 


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^' 


